I hate the word…mixologist…with all of my heart. I want to throw in the bar towel and whither up and die every time somebody asks me if I am a mixologist. Besides presenting itself as incredibly audibly gay, it is a worthless self-appointed term containing absolutely zero credibility. I am a barnerd…passionate about introducing new flavor profiles and providing a liquid journey for my customers. I enjoy studying the colorful past of cocktail creations, various liquors, experimenting with signature recipes and techniques, and everything along those lines. I love to drink beer but I couldn’t tell you jack shit about it…I am embarrassingly lacking in my wine knowledge…I am definitely not a cork dork…however, I could give you an in-depth rundown on the history of the cocktail cherry…a twenty-minute spiel regarding the production Don Julio Tequila…or talk your ear off about absinthe. Since the general public has an insatiable thirst to call a bartender anything but a bartender…I am going to fill their glass with barnerdism…which sounds fucking awesome. So tonight…I committed a premeditated twist on the libation of choice for one of my guests. From the size and water quality of the ice cubes…to changing the ingredients ever so slightly…to smoking the glass with mesquite…to the garnish…I invested time and thought into liberating this libation from its standard method of preparation. The payoff came in the form of the smiles and approval from my customer. He claimed it was one of the best beverages he had ever had. I was genuinely happy to have succeeded on my mission to successfully implement a unique experience while simultaneously learning a few new tactics along the way…and the whipped cream on the chip shot…is that he graciously handed me a hundred-dollar gratuity. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to go the extra yard. Never underestimate the power of a cocktail.
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